


Slowly, Now

by ohfiitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU in which they actually talk about things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine, heh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/ohfiitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz and Simmons go on a trip in an attempt to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slowly, Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itcamecrashingdown](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=itcamecrashingdown), [fitzsimmons-dwarfs](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fitzsimmons-dwarfs).



> Written as a gift for fitzsimmons-dwarfs (on tumblr) for the Fitzsimmons Secret Valentine Exchange. The prompt was "fitzsimmons making up". Hope you like it, dear! <3

 

The first time Jemma Simmons experienced grief, she was eight years old. Her dog had died, and she had cried for three nights straight, letting the tears drown out the choking feeling of sadness in her chest. By the time she stopped, she was exhausted, but oddly relieved.

This time, though, this time feels different. This time feels more like guilt and regret than sadness, and this time grief came crashing down with a heavy burden of blame upon her. Trip died, and she knows it’s not her fault but she can’t help but feel partly responsible (and if she’s being honest, she’s almost getting used to the feeling) and sort of… displaced. Like everything is wrong and out of place, and Jemma thrives in order so it irks her that everything is in chaos. So instead of crying the sadness away, she goes back to her old bunk at The Bus, desperately seeking for something familiar. For something to feel like home.

She’s shifting uncomfortably in the too-small, too-unused bed, trying to sleep when she hears two light raps and a soft _Jemma?_ from outside the door.

“Fitz? Come in.”

He does, and they stay still for a second or two, her blinking up from beneath her blanket and him just standing by the door, fidgeting with his hands and looking unsure. She scoots closer to the wall and holds up the blanket as a silent invitation, and he climbs beside her, urging her to face the wall then wrapping his arms around her waist. She feels his heavy heartbeat against her back and grips his arm, snuggling it tighter over her stomach.

“Are you still mad at me? For leaving?” She whispers after a few minutes of silence, and she’s glad that she can’t see his face, because she knows the answer, but she doesn’t really want to watch him say it.

“Yeah. A bit.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“Because you need me. And I…” A pause. A gulp. A sharp intake of breath. Then the truth. “I need you.”

She chuckles at that, at how ridiculously _Fitz_ it is to think of what she needs even when he’s angry and grieving. “God, we’re a right mess, aren’t we?” She says, and she feels Fitz smile as he presses a kiss at the top of her head.

“We all are, Jemma. Skye hasn’t stopped punching things and Coulson hasn’t slept since… since Puerto Rico. And I think I saw May drinking _coffee_ last night.”

“May hates coffee.”

“Exactly.”

She takes his hand from her stomach, twines their fingers, and brings it up to kiss the back of his wrist. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“I know you are, Jem. And I’m sorry, too. I was– I’ve been quite the arsehole. I just need more– more uh, I think we need more–”

“Time?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I suppose we could do that. We’ll just take it slow, yeah?”

He just hums his agreement and leaves another kiss against her hair. “Thank you. Now sleep.”

 

—

 

The first time Leopold Fitz experienced loss, he was six, and it tasted like stale bread and broken glass and the sound of his mother’s tears. It was the night he saw his father for the last time, and it was the moment he first decided to be brave. He never quite felt like it, though; he never felt brave enough.

But today he feels braver than he was yesterday, and that has to count, at least. He wants to make it count.

So gathers up the right words and all the air his now-fragile lungs can take and marches up to their lab. ( _Hers_ , technically, since he was officially transferred to the garage a week ago, but he still spends more time in the lab than with Mack anyway and no one seems to question it, so he just keeps coming back. He always does.)

“Let’s go.” He says resolutely, slamming two folders onto their joint workbench where a cup of tea is already waiting for him. It’s been a careful past few weeks for the two of them. Getting back to their old routine, building a new one, finding their way back to the comfortable dance they used to know so well. It barely resolves their issues, though, and he’s determined to do it right.

“Go where? Fitz what’s th–” Jemma’s eyes widen as her eyes skim through the papers. “What’s this? Coulson approved a leave? For the two of us? As in like, a vacation? Off of work?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s how leaves work, Jemma.”

“No way. There’s no way he would– I’ve been asking him for– How did you do it?”

He just shrugs.

“Did you...did you blackmail him?” She asks, looking around to see if there's anyone within earshot, then brings her voice to a low whisper. “Is it the thing in his desk drawer?”

“What the… I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Jem. And I don’t think I want to. But anyway, the important thing is that we– we are… uh..”

“Free?”

“Yeah, free. Well, for a few days, at least.”

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” Another shrug. He really doesn’t. All he knows is that they need to fix things and they need a break. They need to go back to how they were before. Maybe not in the exact same way, but regain their sense of togetherness, at least. “Somewhere with monkeys, for sure.”

“Oh, Fitz.”

She rolls her eyes.

He smiles.

They’re getting there.

 

—

 

"Fitz, for the twentieth time, we do _not_ need fifteen bags of pretzels."

"Yes, yes we do. Forgive my astute sense of survival, but I don’t want to starve in the wild."

"Oh, please. We're going to _Hawaii_."

"Exactly. Wild. Jemma, you and I both know that such an environment provides plenty of opportunities for wild... um... things. Uh. I mean-"

"Five packs. That's it."

 

—

 

Almost a decade ago, their early assignment to Sci-Ops disrupted Fitz and Simmons’ plan to visit the Mauna Kea observatories as a graduation treat. Which is why they decided to spend their weekend leave in Hawaii. It’s the perfect time to do it, too. Revisit the ‘could have been’s as they try to heal from the ‘never should have’s that strained their friendship.

For the first time in months, things are going right. Looking up. Settling slowly back to place. That is, until they reach the visitor station and Fitz’s heart drops upon seeing the sign:

_We strongly advise the following individuals not to travel above the Visitor Information Station:_

  * _Pregnant Women_
  * _**People with heart or respiratory problems**_
  * _People in poor physical condition_
  * _Children under the age of 16_



“You, um, you should go.” He says, more to his feet than to her. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes. He had this one chance to make it up to her, and his stupid lungs had to muck it up.

“Don’t be silly, Fitz. I’m not leaving you here, that’s ridiculous.” Jemma feels a sad ache upon seeing Fitz's hunched posture. He clearly blames himself, as he has been wont to do for far too long, and she just wishes she had the right words to tell him that he’s done enough. “Besides, look! There are star tours in here, too. We could do that instead.”

“But that’s nothing compared to the Keck telescopes! Or… or the UKIRT. You’ve always wanted to see those.”

“We could always come back.”

“You’re disappointed.”

“I am not. This is _our_ vacation and I’m not going to ruin it.”

“Neither am I. Which is why you’re going.”

She sighs and takes his hand, urging him to look at her.

“Fitz, I want to stay. I mean it.”

It’s a step forward. Saying some of the words that have always lingered on her tongue, and when his blue eyes meet hers, she knows he understands.

Jemma nudges his shoulder playfully to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you could build our own observatory with your bare hands, yeah?”

He snorts. “You overestimate my genius.”

“And you underestimate my ability to enjoy a vacation with just you.”

He smiles then, and she can’t help but match it with her own.

“Here.” She offers him a bag of pretzels and Fitz just stares at it for a few seconds, blinking rapidly in confusion. He’s pretty sure he already finished the last bag before they ascended the mountain.

“You packed extra pretzels?”

She just shrugs. “Didn’t wanna let you starve in the wild.”

 

—

 

It was okay. It was going to be okay. They were supposed to go stargazing from the visitor station, eat more pretzels, and make the most of their time off. But nature is a funny thing. And water, they’ve come to find, is never on their side. It rains that night, and they are forced to go back to the hotel, left with a bottle of wine and no stars to watch. There are words to be said, though, and Fitz is surprisingly the first to say them. Not that he planned on saying it. Not that he planned on saying _anything_ , but she’s watching the soft drizzle from the night sky, eyes as bright and wide as the first time saw them, lips turned into a smile as her fingers tap her wine glass along with the rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain against the window, and it strikes him that she has never looked this peaceful in months. And he just knows he has to stop hurting them both.

He has to make it right.

“Hey Jem?” He asks, gently pulling Jemma from her reverie.

“Hm?”

He takes a deep breath. There’s no going back now. “I just wanted you to know. I mean. Before, before we go back, I just want to say that I know why you did it.”

It’s barely a coherent sentence, but she understands, and she looks at him with a smile, silently pleading him to go on.

“I understand... why you left. I still hate that you didn't tell me, but I understand why you did it. And I... I forgive you.”

His voice quivers right then, and Simmons watches as he shuts his eyes to stop the tears, a shivering wreck of emotion in front of her. This, this is the Fitz she knew. And this is the Fitz now. Nervous and worn out and _changed_ , but with a heart that never forgets to forgive.

Jemma had always thought he was beautiful. But not in this way. Not in the way that makes her want to map him out and build a constellation of Fitzes she can use to show him that he is beautiful, that he is brighter and better and always, always bigger than the stars.

She smiles wider, then goes up on her toes to brush her lips against his. He squeaks at the initial contact, but she presses further, trying to speak every word she doesn’t know how to say with the slide of her mouth and the gentle touch of her thumb against his teary cheek. There’s an odd feeling in her chest, like the cold night breeze is sucking all the air from her lungs and it’s making her dizzy, but then suddenly Fitz – _her Fitz_ – is kissing her back and she thinks the world couldn’t be more right.

They break apart at some point, and she feels him pant from the momentary lack of air.

“So, um… that happened.” He finally says.

“Yeah.”

“And did you… did you want that to happen? I mean were you… was it an acciden–”

She cuts him off by pulling him back to another kiss, this time deeper, hungrier, but true and tender all the same.

“Yes. Yes, Fitz. I want this.” She mumbles against his lips. “Do you?”

He answers by giving her another tiny kiss. Once. Twice. Three, four times, before placing a firm one on her forehead and pulling her into a hug.

He snugs his arms tighter around her and they stay like that for a few seconds. Jemma with her head pressed against his chest, humming softly to the ragged thumping of his heart; and Fitz with his cheeks against her hair, running his fingers lazily through her curls and letting out gentle huffs of breath that sound very much like _I love you_ to her ears.

 _Free._ She remembers herself saying days ago, when he told her about their vacation. But it didn’t feel real back then. It didn’t feel like this, like they were two frayed threads slowly, surely, finally unspooling from the knot they’ve wound themselves into during the past year. It didn’t feel like flying and falling and settling back to earth all at the same time. It didn’t feel like his hands in her hair and her head on his chest; and it didn’t feel like they’ve spent the last twelve years of their lives just to find each other all over again.

And it certainly didn’t feel like falling in love.

“Fitz? We’ll be okay, right?”

“I think we already are, Jemma.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about telescopes or about Hawaii, so I'm sorry if I messed things up. :)


End file.
